


Jungle Fever

by lillianfromaccounting



Category: Marvel
Genre: Biting, Explicit Language, F/M, No Plot/Plotless, Penis In Vagina Sex, Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, mentions Natasha Romanoff, mentions of food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 10:32:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11229135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillianfromaccounting/pseuds/lillianfromaccounting
Summary: You're on a mission in the jungle and come back to the safe house to find a surprise.





	Jungle Fever

It had been four days since you had last eaten something that didn’t grow in the jungle surrounding you. You had split up with Natasha after completing the first part of the mission a week ago. She was supposed to bring the intel back and send it to the rest of the team while you stayed behind and did more recon. It wasn’t a particularly difficult mission, compared to previous ones, but the wet, hot jungle climate slowed you down. Navigating through the dense brush while carrying your pack was uncomfortable at best. The humidity was stifling. Travelling by night gave you little reprieve since you had the nighttime goggles to contend with.

You made it back to the safe house and entered through the back door. You never felt so relieved to be inside a physical structure; you still think air-conditioning was the best invention ever. Dropping your rifle and gear against the wall closest to you, you surveyed the house for signs of life. The other room was empty; the mattress strewn across the floor told you that Natasha was still around. You weren’t sure if it was adrenaline or your training that forced you to check the perimeters again, but once you confirmed that there was no immediate threat, you turned the faucet on for the makeshift shower right next to the kitchen. You silently thanked Tony for insisting on putting running water and a septic system in this hell hole. 

You kicked off your boots and unbuckled your holster before peeling off the layers of your tactical suit. The water was just getting to the right temperature when you slid into the shower. You stood there, eyes closed, basking in the sensation of warm water trickling down your body, washing away the dirt and sweat of the jungle heat. You leaned your head back, letting the water cascade down your hair.

You looked around and was grateful to see that Nat left toiletries out. You grabbed the bottle of shampoo and slowly lathered your hair, enjoying the refreshing burst of citrus assaulting your nose. You rinsed your hair out and applied conditioner before scrubbing your body with the Old Spice body wash that reminded you of Steve, spending extra time massaging your calves and feet. Just as you got up to rinse the conditioner out of your hair, the water turned ice cold. You tried to finish washing as quickly as possible, but the cold water down your back was just too much to bear, so you shut the shower off. Wrapping yourself in a towel, you walked out of the shower to hear the toilet flushing from the latrine.

“Natasha! I can’t believe you flushed while I was in the shower! You know that messes with the hot water!” you yelled as you quickly moved to the kitchen to rinse your hair out. You bent awkwardly in order to get your head under the faucet of the deep farmhouse sink.

“I’m--I’m sorry,” a male voice said behind you.  
You banged your head against the faucet as you whipped around.  
“Fucker!” you cursed. “Steve? What are you doing here? Where’s Nat?”  
“She went off on another mission a couple days ago. I was instructed to wait three days before going out to search for you. Are you okay?” Steve said, moving quickly to your side.  
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, rubbing your head. “I just--I have to finish washing my hair and this sink is--inconvenient for my height.”  
Steve looked at the sink and then back at you.  
“Can I help?” he asked quietly.  
“Sure,” you said, defeated.

Steve washed his hands and then grabbed a folding chair from the other room, placing it down with the back against the sink.  
“Here, try kneeling on the chair,” he suggested.  
You followed his instruction and knelt on the chair, bracing yourself against the sink as you lowered your head under the faucet.

Steve positioned himself behind you. You weren’t sure what to expect, but he was quite gentle and tentative. As those big, sturdy, calloused hands massaged your scalp, you suddenly realized that none of your Steve fantasies lived up to the real deal. You closed your eyes and savored the moment.

His fingers made their way to the nape of your neck and a moan escaped your lips. You stiffened for second, hoping he didn’t hear you over the sound of the water. He gathered your hair into a loose bun and rubbed circles right behind your ears and down the base of your skull. Your jaw slacked as Steve released the tension in your neck. His hands continued down to your shoulders, kneading the knots between your shoulder blades.

“Ohh,” you didn’t bother masking your moan this time. You’re pretty sure you heard a chuckle from him but you didn’t care. After a week of sleeping in trees, you took whatever pampering you can get, not knowing where the mission would send you to next. You noticed Steve was keeping his hands above the towel, so you dropped it, letting it pool around your thighs. Steve took the hint and continued down your back. When he got to rubbing circles on your hips, you couldn’t help but arch back.

Steve was a lot closer than you realized, because your head fell right onto his shoulder.  
“Anything else you want help with?” he whispered in your ear while nibbling on it.  
“You’re a fucking tease, Rogers,” your mouth was parched.  
“And what are you going to do about it?” you felt him smile against your skin as he kissed a trail down your neck.

You leaned against him, slowly grinding your ass against his dick.  
His hands wrapped around you and went straight for your breasts. His teeth sank into your shoulder and then his tongue soothed the spot.  
You reached behind you, undoing his belt and yanking it off with one hand.  
“Now that’s a fancy parlor trick,” Steve chuckled. He grabbed a fistful of your wet hair, turning your head to face him.  
The expression on his face reminded you of a hungry lion about to pounce on a gazelle. You cupped his face with your hands and gently bit and sucked his plump lower lip. He returned your kiss with fervor, his mouth practically devouring yours.  
You pushed his jeans and boxer briefs down; your palm ghosted over his erection.  
“Who’s the fucking tease now?” he growled, his hands now gripping your hips.

You guided one of his hands down to your clit and pressed his middle finger into your folds with ease.  
“Jesus Christ, you’re soaked,” he said. His thumb circled your clit as he slipped a second digit into you, eliciting whimpers out of you.  
“Steve, please, I want you inside me,” you pleaded.  
“I don’t have protection,” he grimaced.  
“It’s ok,” you said.  
“You sure?” he asked again.  
You nodded.

He glided his dick over your entrance a few times before slowly pushing inside you. He stilled to let you adjust. When you signaled you were ready, he pushed all the way in. He held you there for a moment, his forehead on your shoulder. You felt his staggered breaths down your back. When his breathing steadied, he pulled out of your and quickly rammed inside you again.  
“Oh fuck!” you yelled.  
“Are you ok?” you could hear the concern in his voice.  
“Oh god, yes,” you said with a smile. “Do that again. Please.”  
“As you wish,” he replied.  
You braced yourself against the sink as he pounded into you at a punishing pace. His thumb found your clit again and your walls clamped around him.  
“Steve, I’m almost--al--fuuuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuucck,” you barely got the words out when your orgasm washed over you. You felt his throbbing release shortly after yours.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you until you both relaxed.  
Kissing your shoulder, his gravelly voice said, “That wasn’t how I pictured our first time.”  
“Oh really?” you laughed. “How did you picture it?”  
“I’d have at least taken you to dinner first,” he grinned, kissing a trail up your neck.  
“Mmm, speaking of food, I’m famished,” you said. “Please tell me there’s food here. I haven’t eaten in days.”  
“I’ll make you a sandwich after a quick shower,” he offered.  
“Don’t flush while the shower is on. It kills the hot water,” you warned.  
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Steve smiled. “I’m joining you in the shower.”


End file.
